Dawn
by Lady Amiee
Summary: From the darkness of a dying people, can one female shaman find the strength, the inner light to guide her people into the future? Urdnot Bakara must fight through ash and sand, to save her people from the destruction they bring to themselves. In a war torn galaxy, one woman stands, ready to fight for the children of her race.
1. In The Darkness

In the darkest hour, there is always a way out.

Urdnot Bakara walked through the women's camp, her clawed hands gently touching the heads of the children as they passed her, hands that had clawed through so much dirt for this, for the lives of those around her, for the survival of her people. She smiled, the ridges of her face creasing as she listened to the mothers, the women she'd suffered so much for, talking quietly. Her mind went back, just for a second, to that dark time. So much had happened, so many tortures, trials, failures and pain, yet, it had not broken her, it had only served to make her stronger, to give her the strength to drag her race from the ashes and sand.

Memories of the darkness filled her mind and her heart slowed to a beat she remembered well. The sound of digging, the weight of the earth surrounded her. The scent of the dirt filled her nose, threatening to choke her. In the darkness, she had found the light, in the shadows, she had found strength, but it was rising from the pitch-black night, into the sun that had given her purpose.

Urdont Bakara remembered the darkness. She stood, watching the children she'd fought for scream and run, playing games and laughing, each shriek filling her with joy. The darkness of her past had fallen behind her, but her story would live on through the ages, in her memories, and of those who would remember her sacrifice for her race.

* * *

Day One In The Darkness. 

Darkness and gloom surrounded her, filling her senses with nothing. Her eyes blinked uselessly, trying to pierce the shadows. Her heart pounded, beat after beat marking the time. How many in a week? She didn't know, but the one thing that for her, proved to be inescapable, was the lack of food, water and supplies. One weeks worth, before her heart would stop and she would fail.

Water dripping from the stalactites in time with her heartbeat, had her eyes opening. It didn't make much difference, considering the oppressive gloom around her. She shivered, wrapped in nothing but a ceremonial robe, too thin to offer much protection from the cold and damp. _Dig. _She knew she needed to keep moving, to find her way out to the sun.

She crawled, guessing the direction she needed, trying to find some instinct within herself to show her the way. A wall met her questing fingers, slimy and damp, cold to the touch. She dug her claws in, scratching away at the darkness, chipping away at the cold. Her heartbeat sounded over the noise of the rocks shifting, the only two sounds she'd known for some time.

Hunger woke her from the haze of digging, her stomach cramping. She stopped her mindless shifting of rock, crawling back through the small tunnel she'd created. _Make it last, don't eat too much, _she coached herself, pulling the burlap sack toward her. She wanted to sleep. Her back ached, her arms trembled and her skin itched. Dirt slid between her plates, grinding on the sensitive skin beneath, but she ignored it, pushing aside the discomfort.

The initiate opened the sack, using touch alone to fumble with the ties. Inside, she found what felt to be dried meat, bread and some kind of nutrient paste. Taking the nutrient paste, she opened the tube, sliding the gelatinous liquid onto her tongue. It tasted like nothing, but it didn't matter, it served its purpose. Inside the pack, in a sealed container, water sloshed, making her thirsty. She held it at bay though, waiting until she'd finished her rations, slowly eating one strip of meat, and one bite of bread.

Once her stomach felt slightly fuller, no longer a growling cavern, she sipped her water, the cooling liquid washing the ash and dirt from her mouth. She sat back, crossing her legs under her robe. She shivered a little, scared of the darkness around her.

_So many have died here, so many lost to the darkness ... I will not be one of the lost, I will find the light. I will become one of the nameless, the faceless, and I will help guide my broken people to more than they are now. No longer will we suffer, the scourge of the galaxy, barely born, hardly surviving, used to fight and die for others. My people deserve more, and I will give it to them. _

The initiate lay down in the dirt, the sack became her pillow, and her robes her blankets. She closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her into a restless sleep. Dreams, hopes and future wishes whispered through her mind, childrens faces, her mothers face, the voice of her father. She couldn't remember him, just another male, put into the breeding program as soon as he came of age. He'd passed the rite, bred with her mother, before being shipped back to the clans, away from the women's camp after she'd been born. She drifted off, deeper into sleep, hearing the faint memory of his lullaby, sang as he held her for the first and last time.

Day Two In The Darkness. 

The initiate woke, her body groaning, pain rippling along her back as she sat up. She cursed, a low rumble of sound echoing through the cave, reminding her where she was. Her hand fumbled through the dark, seeking her water. The night had been long, broken by sounds bouncing off the dank walls, scaring the young krogan, waking her from her comforting dreams. Sipping the water, she took several calming breaths, before rolling to her knees, her hump scraping the roof of the cave.

The night had taken its toll on her, but she was krogan, her body would bow to her, her soul would carry her, and bring her into the light. She began her task, finding her way to the hole she'd started the before sleeping. She assumed a new day had come to pass, but in the darkness, time didn't matter, even as it pressed on her, suffocated her like the rocks that had become her tomb. One week. She had no way of knowing, no way of following time in the cave, only the constant movements of her hands and the ever present beating of her heart signalled its passing. Her heart kept her sane, her hopes kept the darkness at bay, her determination and sheer will ensured her strength to dig.

She broke, hours later, for food and water, once again rationing herself, hoping to make her food last while taking enough to keep her body alive. Taste, smell, and touch meant nothing to her in this place, only the beating of her heart. She'd counted it, as she dragged dirt from her path, endlessly shovelling it to the side, inch after inch, beat after beat. She hummed sometimes, something to break the silence of the cave. Songs of her people left her lips, her voice rising and falling with each note. Some of the songs mournful, some full of hope, each full of history. From the Rachni wars, to the Genophage, she sang, spanning the history of the krogan; their suffering as well as the strength that the suffering had wrought.

That strength filled her now, ingrained into the very fiber of her being, giving her the burning need to survive, to keep digging, to push through each new level of pain. Her body became her tool, tunneling her way to freedom. The initiate would have her freedom, she would leave this cave, broken and remade by her task, her mission, her initiation into a higher cause. She thought, while she lifted mounds of dirt aside, about what she would become, her role in society. She would become a leader, a guide to her people. She smiled, her ridges creasing.

_So many will look to me, and I will show them, that war is not all. A fighting race does not always need to fight with weapons, sometimes words can do more damage than a bullet. My people will be known, one day, as a wise people, who learn from their mistakes, who grow and find their place in the galaxy. _

She stopped digging after uncountable hours, sipping water and taking her second lot of rations. Hunger gnawed at her, but the initiate rose above it, drawing on her own strength, as well as the strength of her hope. It nourished her, filled her empty stomach and exhausted muscles, taking away the ache that sent her muscles trembling. She sat, her back to the cold walls, her hands in her lap as she meditated, letting her thoughts go, leaving her with only one: _Survive. _

* * *

Day Three In The Darkness.

_I'm going the wrong way, _she thought, some instinct warning her after hours of digging. Something pulled her in the other direction, some indisputable call in her chest. She let out a breath, slumping to the floor on her hands and knees. _I'm going the wrong way. _She trembled, knowing it to be true, knowing all her work had been for nothing. _I've got to turn back ..._

She turned, scrambling from her tunnel, dragging her pack with her, making sure it wasn't lost in the dark. She traced the claw marks in the dirt, following them to the slightly larger area she'd been put in. Days of digging, for nothing, but the initiate wouldn't let it stop her, not now. The krogan race had been challenged, just as she was being challenged now, and like them, she would rise above it and become what she had been destined to become. For even then, in the darkness, surrounded by the walls of her torment, she would not bow down to her own failure.

Low snarls filled the cave, the sound of claws against rock and grit accompanying her furious digging. Her heart pounded, music to her ears as she threw herself into the task, her claws breaking and bleeding. She didn't care, she didn't stop, even when her body began to scream for her to breathe, to eat, to sleep. Sleep meant nothing to her now, she wouldn't rest, wouldn't slow. Until the light met her skin again, the initiate would not stop.

Hours passed, seconds spanning into minutes, minutes spanning into hours, hours spanning into days. The fierce krogan female didn't stop, didn't slow. She just kept digging.

* * *

Day Four In The Darkness. 

She sagged. _I don't have enough food to survive ... I'm going to die here. _

Her eyes closed, and even the darkness meant nothing She let her misery take her, giving in to the pain of her limbs, her bleeding claws, her stuttering heartbeat. She realized, in that hopelessness, that she was more than a body, more than a heart beating for survival. Her body was a shell, but in her mind, she was a flame, burning in the darkness. No matter what her body suffered, her flame would always burn.

For what seemed like years, but could only have been hours, the initiate came to a decision.

_I don't want to die. My people need me. I won't die. I am krogan, not some pyjack, cowering in the dirt. I won't die here! _

She'd already been there for four days. Four days of endlessly digging, using only her hands and claws, rock after rock, grain after grain. Four days of exhaustion and darkness. Hopelessness rippled through her as she knelt in the dirt of the tunnel she'd been working so hard on. Her fingers trailed in the filth and her eyes closed.

_My race is my strenght. The blood in my veins is my rage. The heart in my chest is my drum, and it will never stop sounding. _

Her fingers met something in the dirt. She looked down, her eyes drawn to the first light she'd seen in what felt like a millenium. A crystal, three inches long and two inches wide, gleamed in the darkness. A glow seemed to emanate from the stone, a steady pulse that matched the beat of her heart.

She lifted it from the filth, wiping the smears away until it gleamed in her hand. _Hope. _She held hope in her palm. It seeped from the stone, warming her cold bones, easing her tight chest, and building the embers of her determination into a furious blaze.

"I hold hope in my hand," she whispered to herself, the first words she'd spoken in days. Her voice sounded like ash, burnt and dry, like broken trees in a storm.

The initiate stared at the stone, sitting back to eat the remains of her food. The bread had gone stale, the meat dryer than it should be, and only a little water sloshed in the bottle, but the krogan didn't care. Hope fed her weary body, her heartbeat sustained her exhausted mind, and her determination raged anew. Once her paltry meal ended, she crawled back into her second tunnel. She slipped the crystal into her robes, wrapping it in a torn strip, keeping it close to her heart. Blood dripped from her claws, her teeth grinding with each pass of her hands. Piles of filth, rock and limestone falling to her.

_In the darkest hour, there is always a way out. _

* * *

Day Five In The Darkness. 

Hunger cramped her stomach, but the initiate smiled. Her body, nothing but a shell for the light inside her would bow to her will. She chanted, wordless songs and endless rhythm, paced to the sound of her digging. The tunnel-either by conscious decision, or some call of instinct-had started to curve upwards, a slow ascent, curving in a gentle incline. She knew then, feeling the gradient of the curve, that she had nearly made it out, nearly reached the sun.

She missed the sun, her sun, the sun that warmed her planet. She could almost feel the dry heat on her scales, heating her blood, soothing her body. The sky, burnt by her ancestor's mistakes, as vast as all the sorrows of her people, called her: Its bitter orange haze, empty of clouds, devoid of life. To her-no matter what other races thought of her home-the sky represented all of the lessons to be learned from their history. They only survived because the turians and salarians had saved them, because they couldn't save themselves. No longer would this continue, the initiate knew, deep in her heart, that the krogan race needed to grow, to become more; because if they didn't ... then all hope for the future would be lost.

The genophage ... Just the name of the curse on her people brought a snarl to her lip. Her people, male and female alike, had been cursed to impotence. Wombs made barren by the meddling of the salarians. Males, raging against a fate they couldn't fight, women weeping for the dying children, for the mothers who died, childless and broken, with no hope for the future. _I can't bear to see the watch of my people any longer. Something needs to be done, before it's too late. It is my task, my fate, to heal the scars of time_.

Her heart beat, pulse after pulse. _The genophage will no longer be our torment. My people will find a cure, we will grow, we will have our children once more. We will not make the mistakes of the past, we will use our knowledge, our history and we will live. _Her heart beat, a vow in every one, a promise, to find a way to cure the scars on the psyche of her people.

* * *

Day Six In The Darkness. 

She could almost smell the air of her home. No longer did stale oxygen, cloying dirt, and potent rot cling to her lungs with each breath. Her hands moved on auto-pilot, shovelling away the grime. After days of endless digging, she could sense her freedom, feel her escape and her heart pounded. The crystal against her breast warmed, almost as if it too, begged for the sun. Too long had they both been in the darkness, now the time had come for her to be free.

The initiate smiled, grim and determined. _Even in the darkest hour, there is always a way out. _She broke through a thick layer of earth. _How those words have tormented me. Where, in this darkness, is the way out. Now I realize ... Now I know, that the way out must be made by myself. I must make my own way, and I must bring my people with me. _Another claw broke, another layer breached, another obstacle fell to her.

_By tooth and claw, word not war, I must bring my people into the light. As a shaman, I will have the wisdom earned through this task. I have more to learn, from the women who have suffered alongside me, and our knowledge, wisdom and courage will become the cornerstone to a broken race. From that block, from our suffering, we will build, and our race will be more than they ever were before. _

She didn't sleep, couldn't eat, could hardly breathe. All the initiate could do, was dig.

* * *

Day Seven In The Darkness. 

Air. She could smell air, seeping through the dirt. Freedom, closer and closer it came, each scratch of her claws bringing it within touching distance. Her heart raced, no longer a steady beat, but a thundering, a drumming that pushed her onwards, driving her towards the sun. The initiate refused to allow the tears in her blind eyes to fall, she refused the weakness, knowing she had earned her freedom, and would emerge stronger than she had entered.

Sunlight began to pierce the darkness, spearing into eyes that have known nothing but black. She blinked, her eyes adjusting, showing her the filth in which she had dragged herself through. Her hands, in front of her face, covered in it, bathed in black and crimson. Blood, dirt and sweat colored the once white robes, evidence of her struggle. Hands gripped hers, gentle, calming and warm, pulling her from the cave.

"Welcome, my sister."

Voices reached her ears, all saying the same thing. Acceptance, love and energy filled her. Hands and arms enveloped her, bodies all pressing into hers, heedless of the dirt that coated every inch of her skin. The crystal pressed into her chest, reminding her of the dark, and she knew then, that she would carry it always, as a reminder of where she had come from and the paths she would walk. Every hardship faced would be embedded into the stone, becoming the symbol of her, a constant talisman of who she was.

"I have found my place," she whispered, returning the embraces. Her arms ached, and her body felt as if it had been drained of every fiber of energy, but she didn't care. "I have risen from the dirt, cleaner than I entered."

"Welcome, sister. You are now, and always will be one of the sisterhood. A shaman of the krogan, a giver of wisdom, a pillar of strength."

No longer an initiate, the krogan shaman stood tall, pride outlining her form, bathing her in a glow stronger than the sun itself. Hands guided her, pulling her towards a stone building, a temple she'd never seen before. Huge blocks of caramel colored stone formed the structure, carved and stunning.

On the walls, colossal figures of krogan women stood, their robes painted in colours she'd never imagined in the barren wasteland of her planet. Reds, blues, oranges, greens even the black tones shimmered under the sun. In the arms of each woman, lay a child, wrapped in jewel covered blankets. Each jewel shimmered, showing how precious the children were to the entire race.

"For our children, we have given much, and we ask you now, sister, if you are prepared to sacrifice more."

She tore her gaze from the temple, meeting the eyes of each woman forming a circle around her. Her voice rose, clear and strong. "I will give all that I am, all that I ever will be for my people." Her vow rang across the sands, echoing through the ruins, bouncing from rock to rock, grain to grain, sealing her fate, her purpose, her life.

Her name, once known, would be wiped from record, and she would become a sister, a shaman, a mother to a race that needed rebuilding. "For my people, I will sacrifice all."

The women converged, carrying her into the temple, all silent but for the shuffling of their robes on the stone. They stripped her, leaving her with nothing but the crystal which she lay on one of the alters. Naked, she stood proudly as they washed the grime from her skin, care in every drop of precious water used. Her wounds, already nearly healed, bathed and bound. A heavily scented oil was massaged into her scales, bringing them up to a soft, pearly shine.

"Will you now cast aside all claim to your former life, possessions, home, and don the robes of the sisterhood?"

The krogan took one last breath, her resolve as hard as the marble she stood on. "I will."

Heavy bolts of blue fabric covered her nakedness, each panel embroidered with gold patterns. A headdress lay over her hump, forming a mask around her face. Only her eyes were visible through the adornments. Chains, six in total, hung from the mask, obscuring her vision for a moment, before she became accustomed. The entire ensemble felt alien to her, but she knew, in time, it would become essential to her very being. Her robe would become her very identity.

"Take this, my sister. Keep it with you always, a symbol of all you have been through. Let it soothe you in the times to come, for many pains will soon be upon us all."

Her crystal, pressed into her hand by one of her sisters, warmed in her palm, and the krogan smiled behind her mask, slipping it into the robes. It would never leave her, no matter what she faced, no matter what pain she suffered, or what sacrifice she had to make.

"I am ready."

"Then come sister. We must cross the sands together. Hope lies upon the horizon, and we must follow it."


	2. Endless Journey

The sun burned, so different from the darkness, but still a challenge she must fight through. The shaman looked around, the desert around her a vast, burnt wasteland of nothing. In a way, it reminded her of the cave; the nothing, as present here as there. They'd been walking for two days, six women, all robed, all silent. The sand crunched under their feet, whispering sounds muted by the silence.

Her heartbeat, her steps and her strength pushed her through the heat of midday, never stopping, never slowing. They had many miles to walk before they broke for the night, dozens of leagues before they reached the crest in the distance. The shaman glared at the crest, nothing more than a ridge in the rocks. She hated it, hated how untouchable it seemed. She thought back, to the days they'd shared, remembering the simple meals around tiny fires, whispered talks as they curled up together for warmth. Even then, no matter how hard the ground had been, or how the cold had chilled their bones, the women had supported one another.

The shaman turned to her companion, dressed in ruby robes. "Are you feeling well?" she asked, noting the woman's slightly wobbling steps.

The ruby shaman nodded under her head dress. "I am well, though I feel my bones protesting more than they have ever done before. Do not fear, my strength carries me." Though her words were strong, she reached out a hand.

The krogan smiled, her own hand moving to take the one offered. They walked this way for some time, each pulling the other when they faltered. Exhaustion had set in, and every new step only drove it deeper into their bodies. "Tell me of your life, before you became a shaman," she asked to fill the silence. She had heard snippets of the others lives, but to her, no story is better told than by the one who had lived it.

The ruby shaman smiled, a sad, bitter smile. "I had no life. Barren and unable to have children, my mate left, joining the breeding program. I was abandoned, left behind with nothing. My pride kept me from begging, turning to the other women to house me, so I petitioned for the initiation. I wanted to be more." She broke off, sipping water from her container. "I wanted to show that even barren, a woman has more to offer, and to help others who are left alone because of the genophage." Her red robes swayed as a desert wind blew across the group.

"Your mate left you?" the shaman asked, her tone full of sympathy. _To be abandoned by the one you love ... And to not allow yourself despair ... Her strength is so much, and yet, I don't think she sees it, not truly. She will do much, in the future, for the women abandoned in the same way. _The krogan squeezed the hand of the ruby shaman, offering what little comfort she could.

She collected herself for a moment before meeting the other woman's eyes. "A male does not see what a woman suffers. They see only their anger and lust for war," she said, squeezing the claws still held in her palm again. "I thought I would fail. I thought I would die, but I found hope." Her other hand pressed to her chest, to the crystal hanging above her heart.

"The mother gave you hope in the dark. A crystal." The ruby shaman opened her robe at the neck. "We all found one. They are bestowed on the women destined to bring the krogan to peace. Many have found them, and on their death, when their heartbeat stops, the stones are given to the temple."

Another of the women joined the two, her emerald robes glistening in the sun. "My sisters," she said, greeting them. "You are telling stories?" she asked after a moment of companionable silence. Her voice rasped like aged paper, or the fallen leaves of dead trees.

"I was telling the stories of the crystals, sister," the ruby shaman explained, her own voice lowering respectfully.

"Ah, the crystals from the darkness," the emerald robed woman said. Her eyes crinkled. "My emerald has been a friend for many years, its glow warming me in the face of hopelessness." Her hands moved aside the layers of her robes, showing the shard at her chest. "Each shaman carries one always, keeping it close to their hearts until the day they die. The crystal is returned to the temple, before being given back to the earth for the next generation. The spirits of many sisters lie, embedded in the stone, giving strength to the one who carries it."

The shaman lifted her hand, cupping the quartz at her breast. She could feel it pulsing. Looking around, she realized that each woman wore different colours. Ruby, Emerald, Citrine, Amethyst, Aquamarine and herself, in sapphire. Her stone, a shard of clear quartz, didn't match her robes, but she knew now, that she had to _choose_the colour of her cloth.

_One day, when peace has become reality, I will wear the robes of white, but until then, while darkness reigns, I will wear the robes given to me by my sisters. _

The emerald shaman moved closer as they walked. "Would you hear my story, sister?" she asked, waiting until she received a nod of acceptance. Her voice lowered further, and she began to speak in a rhythmic, almost melodic chant. "I am the oldest of the Obeah: The shaman women. Soon my crystal will return to the earth, and my bones will become one with the mother. I wish to tell my story now, so you know the wisdom with which I speak." She paused, taking a breath the sound slightly harsher than it had been before. "Long ago, I left the camp where the women of our race are kept, feeling it to be a prison. The males keep us there, locked away like treasure, never to see the beauty of the world. I did not want to join in the breeding. I wanted to leave."

Something in her voice pulled the sapphire shaman closer. "You do not need to continue if it pains you."

"Once, it pained me, but it made me stronger for that pain. Once it pained me, before I learned that what you allow to cause you pain, owns you. Learning to let go of the pain, learning the lessons behind the experience, and learning to find the beauty in every sorrow, that allows me to transcend the pain and teach those lessons to others." The emerald robed woman began her chant again. "Long ago, before the krogan race reached the stars, we were a nomadic people, drawing strength from the mother, from the earth itself," her voice rasped, sorrow swelling the tone as the rest of the women joined the three.

As one, they began to hum, offering a soothing melody to the words. The wordless notes wove through the story, adding a depth the sapphire shaman had never experienced; it felt to her, as if the words had come alive, drawing images more beautiful as anything she could have imagined.

"We lived from the land. Oh, the beauty of Tutanka before the devastation technology and space brought upon us. Green, as far as the eye could see, lush forests, and water ... So much water. We never wanted for anything, always having enough food from the land. The males hunted, as did the women, the children learned to care for the earth around us, always giving back what they took. It was a good time, a free time, but then ... then we began to look beyond, seeking more."

The sapphire shaman looked around the desert, trying to imagine the green, as green as the emerald shaman's robes. _Our race found more, and it destroyed us. _"I wish I could have seen the land before it died."

"Stories and texts, passed down by the shaman women, tell us of another time. A time when our people were proud and our land prosperous, the men would fight for honor, huge displays of their power. It kept them from killing, from becoming too violent. They were not as they are now, their anger had an outlet. Between hunting, the fights, rituals, and protecting the tribes, there was only peace." The emerald shaman smiled, the papery wrinkles around her eyes creasing further. "They protected us from the maws and varren, keeping us safe and yet letting us wander free. We were not caged in the camps as we are now."

The sorrow in her tone, so different to the pride she'd started with, echoed across the sand. "Our race needs no cage, we need not the genophage and its shackle on our people. Our history is it's own cage, and we must free our people, heal them and learn from the mistakes of the past. We are the Obeah, because it's our task to heal our broken people, before it's too late."

"We are the Obeah," the women said together, a whispered pledge. They were one in all things, fighting with courage and strength.

The sapphire shaman lifted her head, a smile playing on her lips as she realized they'd reached the ridge. Taking, learning, sharing knowledge, stories and wisdom had passed the time, taking hours off their journey, and bringing them to a place they could rest. She knew the power of their words then, recognised the healing and comfort they gave, and one day hoped that when she spoke to others, they would feel the strength in her words too.

The citrine shaman put her pack down, stretching out her back and waving the sapphire shaman over. "Come, help me set up camp," she said, her voice much softer than the others. She began gathering sticks, checking around the crevices of the ridge for dry grass and debris blown by the desert wind, to be caught in the rocks.

The sapphire shamen followed her example, and she realized, based on the soft tone of voice, and the slightly smaller size of the woman, that the citrine shaman was incredibly young, much younger than the others. Her chest tightened.

_What must have she suffered to choose this life? To choose the trial ofdarkness and stone ... So many stories, so much suffering ... My people are so lost. _

A song broke the silence. A low humming, punctuated by gentle words, a rhythm that touched the sapphire shaman's soul, bringing light to the darkness. Her doubts faded, each word a balm to her fears, filling the empty worry inside her, erasing it, replacing it with calm confidence.

_Light can pierce the darkness, but darkness can not pierce the light. _

_Let your light break the shadows, let it burn the night. _

_The mother will guide us, reaching beyond the stars. _

_Light can pierce the darkness, but darkness can not pierce the light. _

_Let your light break the shadows, let it burn the night._

_Hope transcends us, we will become more than we are. _

_By the mother we worship, the earth we love, we are the Obeah. _

_Hope transcends us, and we will become more than we are. _

_Our souls strong as the stone we move, we are the mothers Obeah. _

The sapphire shaman hadn't even realized that her voice had joined the others. She had been remembering the first beams of sun that had entered the cave after the endless digging. The song repeated, six women, six voices, becoming one in a crescendo of pure joy, unity and shared hope. The song of the Obeah echoed, filling the camp and the hearts of them all.

They kept singing, over and over as they worked, setting up blankets, building a fire, and preparing food for the night. Water bottles were handed around, and they gathered, backs to the darkening sky, faces to the flames. The song ended, and the only light left, flickered from the fire. Their weary bodies reached towards the heat, soothed by the warmth, the chill easing from their bones until they could settle comfortably.

They shared stories through the night, weaving tales of their lives, hopes and dreams, some sorrowful, like the ruby shamans tale of abandonment, and some joyful like the aquamarines story of dreaming. She had dreamt, that the mother had called her, asking for her to take the initiation and had travelled across Tuchanka with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had a calling, and the mother had kept her spirit from breaking during the endless journey across the broken planet.

"I found my stone on the second day in the dark. I almost gave up, fighting against my instincts. My body burned, consumed by exhaustion and I wept, believing I had failed the spirits of the mother. My hands, bloody and sore fell upon the stone, not to dig, but to feel the earth under my claws, to..." she broke off, a tear falling from her eye. "I wanted to say I was sorry, for failing her. She wouldn't let me give in though. A crystal ... bluer than anything I had ever seen almost fell into my palm. Light filled me, and I heard the mother's voice, felt the spirits of my sisters within the stone and knew, I couldn't give up." She looked around, meeting the eyes of the other women across the fire. "Four days of digging later, I met the sun again, reborn as one of the Obeah."

Her story ended, the last for the night, and the women settled down to sleep, each curling up against the rock, sheltering from the night wind. Shivers wracked them all, only light blankets keeping the cold at bay, but they persevered, refusing to bow to nature. They were the mothers children, her touch would always be welcome. Even as their bodies rebelled against it, their souls reached for her in the darkness.

A voice woke the sapphire shaman in the night. Nothing more than a rasping whisper, followed by a deep, rumbling cough. "My sister ..." the voice called, bringing her from the embrace of sleep.

She rose, rolling from her blanket to crawl to the emerald shamans side. "My sister, you need me?" she asked, peering through the gloom. She gasped, shock freezing her at the sight of the emerald shaman lying on the stone. "Oh, my sister." A slight keen of sympathy escaped her.

Lying, her headdress on the floor beside her, was her sister, draped in her emerald robes. Her skin, once flushed with color, now pale, lifeless and dull. Her eyes, once glowing, now dim, her light fading. Breath, harsh and weak rasped from failing lungs, and the sapphire krogan placed her hand to the dying woman's chest.

"Do not worry, child. I have been expecting this. I have been called back to the mother, and my spirit is within my crystal," the emerald shaman whispered, her hand moving to cover her sister's. "I am only glad I was allowed to linger, just long enough to see you break through the dark."

The sapphire shaman leaned down, to hear the words that whispered from her sister. "Is there nothing ..." she broke off, not knowing what to say. They were in the middle of the desert, there would be no medical help here. "Don't ... don't leave, we need you. We need you to guide us, to lead our people to the light. You can't come to an end here. Please."

"We all find our end, and mine has come. I embrace it. I feel only one sorrow, and that is to know I will never see our race brought back to life. No, that is something for you. That is yours to see and I know that you will be the one to bring it to pass. Do not fear. In the darkest hour, there is always a way out."

The sapphire shaman wept, unable to help herself. She felt no shame for the tears. Her tears were to honor the passing of a great woman, a healer, the oldest of the Obeah. "My sister, how can I ease you?" she asked, knowing she could do nothing more than offer comfort.

"It is enough to have you beside me. I have one thing to ask, if you would permit me?" The emerald shamans voice lowered, weakening by the second. She waited, staring into the sapphire shamans eyes until a nod of acceptance passed between them. "Look after my spirit until it can be returned to the earth. Let it guide you, our newest member, in the time to come. Your light, will be the last I will see, and the light within you sends me to the mother with a heart at ease." She coughed. "My song is ending, my heart will stop, but I know, going to the void, that you will lead my people. I can see it, within your eyes. Be at ease my sister, I will be with you, with all of you."

Her last words spoken, the emerald shaman closed her eyes, her hands blindly passing the shard of precious green crystal to the sapphire robed krogan. She did not pass, not right away, she just lay, breathing softly until ... the sound stopped, and her heart followed.

The sapphire shaman wept openly, her heart thundering with loss, pain and sorrow. Hope remained, buried under her grief, glowing like an ember, never to fade. A life, as bright as an emerald in the sun burned in her hand and she stared into the stone through her tears. The greens shifted, almost alive in tone and color, and against the dark despair, a smile reached her lips.

She leaned down, kissing first the emerald shamans forehead, then the crystal. "Thank you, my sister. On my honour as first, a krogan, and second, as one of the Obeah, I will fulfil your wish and the wish of the whole krogan race. I will see our people rise from the ash and dust, and I will lay your stone in the earth one more, ready to lead the next of our cause."

She covered the woman's face with the cloth of her robe, tucking it around her to protect her from the elements. She knelt then, beside her sisters now silent body, keeping vigil until the dawn rose, casting shadows upon the scorched earth. Soon, hands touched her shoulders, all offering support without words. One by one, they moved away and the sound of earth shifting brought her from her repose.

Digging. They were digging, using their hands and claws. The song, the chant from the night before rose and fell with each pass of claws in the dirt. A grave, the final resting place for an ancient soul emerged from the soil.

No words were spoken as the sapphire shaman joined them, sinking her claws into the sand, tunnelling into the earth, tears seeping down her face. The other four had similar diamonds littering their cheeks, all grieving the loss of one of their own. The sapphire shaman thought of her trial, how similar this felt, only now, instead of her own pain, she felt the pain of them all. They shared their sorrow as they worked, until soon, a grave large enough to fit the eldest of them all.

"Into the earth, to be taken back to the mother, we lay her body, so her bones may restore the balance. Let her return to the light, and let her spirit always stay as strong as she was in life, death, wisdom and courage."

They lifted her as one, laying her gently into the ground. "Let her return to the mother, to the land, to peace. Watch over her soul our mother, for she was the most wise, and her wisdom has led your people for a millennia."

Sand covered the body, sealing her within a tomb of dirt. She had risen from the dirt and now, she would return to it. Once the grave had been completed, the five women circled her, singing of the hope the emerald shaman had given to them all. Her story would live on always, within their hearts, and within the tombs of the temple. When the time came to return her crystal to the earth, her history would be written, carved into stone and her statue would rise to stand sentinel over the sanctuary of the Obeah.

The sapphire krogan clutched the emerald in her palm, before adding it to her own on the pendant at her neck, feeling its warmth against her heart. She turned her gaze to the horizon. In the distance lay hope, a chance for the future. She didn't know what, but she trusted her sisters, knowing they would never lead her wrong. Her heartbeat sustained her, fighting back the pain of loss, and she lifted her head, letting the sun bathe her face through her mask. Hope lay on the horizon, and she would make sure they reached it, no matter the cost.

_Your wisdom will not be lost, my sister. I will watch over your crystal until you are truly set to rest._

Written to Mumford and sons, Timshel.


	3. Again From The Darkness

_This is not the hope I had expected, _the sapphire shaman thought, her body bowing from the hard bed. Pain, pain and fear coursed through her veins blending with the poisonous drugs. She fought the fire inside her, chanting silently to herself, clutching at the stones around her neck. Ruby, emerald, aquamarine, amethyst and her own crystal shard warmed her palm. Four dead, one on the journey-a blessing really-and three due to failed experimentation. The scientist had raged, cursing as they failed again and again. Males of her kind endorsed this pain, letting the women suffer. She knew they wanted a cure, but to do this?

_How far we have fallen. There has to be a better way, there has to be another option. My sisters are dying. How many more will fall? I have sworn to face this with them, and yet . . . I don't want them to die. Our people need a cure, but to . . .. _Her thoughts were broken by another wave of pain.

"Systems failing, must re adjust cure attempt 6734," the doctor rattled off, talking to his recorder rather than her. "Human DNA not viable. Krogan male genes attacking. Must recalibrate." He looked at her, his eyes feverish.

She closed her eyes, hating the insanity in his. Maelon injected her again, yet another serum, another round of testing she had to endure. _Will this ever end? Or will our order be wiped out in this attempt to cure our people? _Her body reacted, sending a scream spiralling up her throat. She denied it, refused to allow it to leave her lips. Weakness would not take her, she would endure. Her heart, beating faster than ever before, fluttered in her chest.

On the bed beside her, citrine robes splattered with bile and filth covered the panting form of one of her sisters. The sapphire shaman reached out, offering what little comfort she could. The testing hadn't been easy for the woman, the sheer amount of drugs pumped into her system slowly eating away at her until she lay, nothing more than a screaming husk. Her eyes raged though, spitting fury and determination to survive . . .. The sapphire shaman couldn't shake the feeling that her sister wouldn't see another dawn.

Time ceased to matter in that place, pain and rage coalesced, becoming the only thing she knew. Each new torment: skin samples torn from under her plating, bone marrow operations and worst of all, parts of her secondary nervous system being removed; each one almost broke her. Her heart stuttered many times, almost breaking her will, but she forced it on, sometimes pleading with it, sometimes screaming at it, begging for it to _just keep beating. _

Her voice broke, she fell silent, unable to form words or thought, trapped like a mindless animal to her torture. That all but her citrine sister had died, seemed a blessing in her mind. They suffered no more.

Her heart pounded, reminding her of her trials. _Wasn't this our task? To suffer and succeed? To dig through the filth? How can this be a blessing? To have never seen our people rise from the ashes . . .. Their death was a mercy, not a blessing. _Her tears-almost none existent in her dehydrated state-began to fall, stinging the cracked, bleeding skin of her face.

Her robes scraped her sores, making her desperate to slip them off, but she couldn't move, and feared she would never be able to again. She prayed, mourning for her sisters, humming the songs of the Obeah. She let it flow through her, trying to wash the filth from her veins with the binding words of the shaman.

Darkness swirled in her mind, oily tar that clung to all hope she had, dimming it, diminishing it, until nothing but hopeless cold remained. She growled, straining against her bindings, both physical and spiritual, digging away the darkness, using her faith as her claws, her spirit as her strength, and her determination as her guide.

A throbbing beat reached her, calling from the very depths of her soul, as cool as spring water, calming and yet . . . full of power. Slowly it built, wave upon wave of sound. Knowledge came with each thundering beat, gifted from the mother. Whispered voices reached her ears adding to the crescendo, almost soundless, but no less powerful for that.

Each note sent her heart spiralling, building a pressure in her chest that arched her from the bed with its power. Heat bloomed, white energy soothing the ragged wounds of her broken body, settling her in a comforting embrace. The pain lay beyond, but while the mother spoke, the sapphire shaman felt nothing.

The great voice with the spirits of a thousand past sisters, called to the heart of the sapphire shaman, filling her with almost too much energy. She let out a sigh, the voices fading, replaced by images, images of a world lost to war.

Her mind went to far distant places, seeing the world no krogan had seen for a millenia. She saw the healing sands of _Talnura, _the desert to the far west, its white sands said to have healed the sick for generations.

_Yet it could not cure the Genophage. _

She saw the crystalline waters of _Milina, _now dry, burned by the toxic fury of the nuclear war. Once so beautiful, now a barren waste, never to sustain the life of Tuchanka again. The sapphire shaman had never seen the emerald shores, but she had heard tales of their beauty, majesty and life-giving energy.

_My planet has lost its soul, because its people have lost theirs. It has lost its healing nature, becoming a planet of war. I must cure the people, so they can cure our world. _

One last place filled her mind, the one she had never been able to see: The gemstone caves of _Alirina. _Said to be blessed by the mother of all krogan, the caves had been the destination for many pilgrims seeking hope, faith and peace. That peace had not spread, the krogan too protective of it, and in that lay their folly.

_Our hope is lost, and yet I see it in my mind. I have been given the sight of the mother, the gift to see what is no more. _

The imagery of the place . . .. No words could describe it. Gemstones larger than any krogan male hung from the walls, dancing with light and the spirit of the planet. Shards like glass, faceted by the mothers hand, gleamed in the darkness, illuminating it, sending the shadows fleeing.

Refracted light bounced from the surface of one to another, a cycle never lost, never broken and never ending. Colors, more than the mind could possibly comprehend, so vivid that even the greatest of all artists could not recreate them. The sapphire shaman wept at the loss of the colors, time having dimmed them from memory, like ink in the rain, blurring until nothing remained but ghosts of its former glory.

Her hand raised of its own accord, moving until it hung in front of her weary eyes. Shrunken now, by the illness that clung to her body, she thought back to her trials, to her initiation. The hope she had felt when climbing from the darkness, her sisters hands holding her, like anchors in the storm . . .. Those hands would never hold her again.

The clawed hand, still held in hers, fell as the last breath of the citrine shaman echoed through the room.

_I am alone. _

_The last._

_The only one with the knowledge of the shaman religion._

_The only one who could save my race._

_I refuse to die. _

"Her crystal," she whispered, the only sound other than screams she'd made in weeks. "I need her crystal. Please, give it to me." She needed to save the spirits of her sisters, to hold them to her heart, to let their strength keep it beating.

One of the doctors moved to her side, his eyes showing no remorse for the dead as he ripped the stone from her sister's neck and thrust it roughly into her hand. He stared down at her, calculating and cruel. He had been the worst, seeming to relish in the screams of the dying, inflicting more pain than necessary.

"Your trinkets will not save you," he whispered, his voice oily, sliding over her scales like grease. "You think this will create a cure? There can never be a cure, I will make sure of it." His hands raised, moving towards the drip attached to her arm.

She caught sight of the metal gleam. A syringe . . .. _I have to survive, I am the last. _She pleaded with her eyes, hardly able to struggle against the heavy sedation already pinning her to the table.

The needle pierced the tubing, his finger hovering over the plunger.

"Darlian, what are you doing?"

_Thank the mother. _

Maelon entered her field of vision, his dark eyes still insane, still feverish and yet . . . protective.

Darlian tried to hide the needle. "Patients pain level rising, decided to increase dose," he stammered, feigning innocence.

The sapphire shaman growled, shaking her head and baring her teeth. "He lies."

Maelon moved, his tiny frame blurring as he tackled the other salarian, dragging the needle from his hand. He pinned him to the floor. "You killed the others. Makes sense now." He sniffed the liquid, pouring a small amount onto his hand. "The dalatrass?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead he slammed the needle into the smaller salarians neck and pressed the plunger down.

The last shaman snarled in victory. She would mourn, weep for her sisters, but not yet. Not until she left this place of madness and pain.

_My sisters' sacrifice will not be in vain. _


	4. Glimpses of Light

The sapphire shaman woke, the gurney hard underneath her tired body. Lights passed in steady intervals, blurred and blinding, her eyes closing against them. She tried to move, to fight the drowsiness holding her body captive. Voices, rapid and too high-pitched for her to understand swarmed around her like angry pyjaks. She shivered, cool air misting over her scales, scents of rot and antiseptic warring with one another among the dust motes that hung in the warm rays of the Tuchankan sun. The heat from Aralakh, the planet's watcher, felt so different from the artificial light that danced on her tender scales, coming fleetingly through the cracks in the hospital ceiling, almost as if to taunt her with freedom.

_My sisters . . .. _Their deaths crashed upon her again, waves of sorrow washing over her. She heard voices again as she keened. Every time she woke, she felt their losses like knives to her chest and she knew that their deaths would be her driving force. They had given everything for their race and home, suffering pain and torture in uncountable ways, until finally being carried into the mothers arms to rest, their task complete.

Like rising from underwater, her hearing returned, and the voices of her captors become clear. Too light to be krogan, to fast to be asari or human. She knew the tone, much like Maelon, buzzing in her ears, wrong to her in many ways.

"Lieutenant, we don't have much time left before they know something is wrong! Our window was six minutes tops."

"I'm well aware of our window of opportunity, but if we do this wrong it won't matter .Now act like a nurse and push the cart! If someone sees us, it'll be just like we practiced on the flight down. I'll do the talking." The pair of voices stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of many soft footsteps on hard stone.

A figure looked over her, breath hot on her cheek. A face appeared through the haze, peering into her eyes..

"Pupils dilated, likely due to drugs still in effect. Still, no longer unconscious. Sign of improvement. Motor skills impaired, likely also from drugs, many injection tracks along arms and large arterial sites. Little sign of restraint, speech impaired as well or would have spoken by now. Little sign of reaction to drugs, no inflammation, still healing sores and obvious contusions, likely from mistreatment by doctors and nurses or possibly male krogan, unclear."

Her mind wandered, confused by the speech. She tried to move, to get away from the buzzing voices, but for once in her life, her body betrayed her, refused to grant her even the smallest of freedoms. She let out a low growl, threatening and deep, trying to warn them away. "Leave me," she croaked, her lip raising to bare her teeth; a pitiful display in truth, but she could do no more.

" . . . Female reluctant to go, was warned of this. If need be we can call for-"

"No time. Something coming our way, must hurry," another voice whispered, suddenly hushed against the sound of the cart on the stone.

The same blurred figure bent over her again, whispering, "Please remain quiet. For own safety." His face disappeared from her field of vision, one hand pressing her back down to the gurney. "Won't hurt you, trying to help."

"Leave . . . me," she whispered, pain ripping through her as the cart bumped. "Please." Something dawned in the air, a sense of fear spiralling into her mind. _I can not leave, not now, not after . . .._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the smell of smoke drifting on the light breeze, death and hate reaching her nose. Varren growled somewhere ahead of them. The sapphire shaman lifted her head, knowing what she'd see. Lining the exit, four vorcha stood, the leashes of several varen clutched in their claws. Snarls left their grotesque mouths, hissing and lethal. The salarians pushing her bed froze, a split second of suspended time before they slowly moved in front of her, obscuring her vision.

"Back! Back or you die!" one snarled, spittle flying from its maw. The varren barked at the aggression from their masters, straining against the leashes shackling them. A moments hesitation from her captors before one stepped forward to answer.

"We have clearance to go through here, now move it before I call Weyrloc Guld and get him to remove you himself." The words were spoken slowly, as if he spoke to a child, the tone one of dominance that didn't fit his slim frame. The sapphire shamen blinked in surprise, not understanding why he would speak with the vermin the males liked to have around for entertainment or cannon fodder.

The lead vorcha paused at the salarians anger, his face screwing up into one of confusion as if he'd never seen a salarian before in his life. "We get no orders like this!"

"Fine, then I'll get to watch you scream as he tears you apart." The salarian reached for his Omni-tool, making like he was about to make the call himself before the vorcha stepped forward.

"No! Uh, no! We let you pass. See? No call Guld!" Panic had the vorcha's tone reaching pitches the sapphire shamen had never heard from a vorcha, her eyes unfocused as she tried to make sense of the words. The vorcha hauled on the leashes of the varren, dragging them back, and clearing the way.

Once more her cart began to move, bumping over rubble, the rancid breath of the vorcha clouding the air as they moved closer. Panic rose inside her. She didn't want to leave, not with a salarian, but the thought of being left with the vorcha in her vulnerable state kept her silent. _I must escape, but vorcha are like varren, they can scent weakness, and I am in no state to fight. _She tried to draw strength from her crystals, but none came, her fear blocking her connection to the earth.

The sun bathed her fully as they left the hospital, the air cooling her fevered skin. She forced her eyes wide, painfully raising her head, trying to see through the blinding sun.

"There she is! Hold it lizards!"

The cart froze as a deep, booming voice bounced from rock to rock, silencing the world to her ears. The lead salarian took a deep breath, letting the air go slowly. He came to her side, a brief look of failure etching his features before he turned to face the speaker. His hand gently squeezed her arm, his eyes pleading with her to stay silent. Against her will, she nodded, giving her word.

"Where did you think you were going, lizard? And with_our _female no less?" The krogan who spoke left the shade of the hospital entrance with a phalanx of others behind him, his smile wicked as the group made a half circle around her gurney. The males growled and jeered, watching the salarian team carefully. "She is to join the breeding program, we won't let you take her."

The sapphire shaman could smell the aggression and greed in the air, even as they could scent her fertility. They would never let the salarians leave. She growled again, hers pathetic in comparison. Now the haze had lifted, she began to realize the implications of allowing the krogan to claim her. She would be captured, put in a camp and used by every male like a bargaining chip. Her body would become a factory for their soldiers, her children sent to the slaughter.

_No! I will not allow it. _She growled, this time her rage filling the tone making the males step back warily. They knew better than to approach an angry female, even a broken one. _I will use these salarians, they have the science, the technology to cure my people. _She met the salarians eyes, telling him without words that she would go willingly.

"I asked you a question!" the lead male roared, his posture becoming one of greater aggravation. His red eyes gleamed as she snarled back, his instincts telling him to take her. "Hand the female over, and I'll kill you quickly." He took a shotgun from his back, leveling it on the salarian nurse who had been pushing her cart.

With one last look for her, the salarian leader's eyes seemed almost apologetic before he unhooked something from his chest armor under his lab coat and hurled it to the ground. A flash of light blinded her, making her struggle instinctively.

"Take the female! I'll hold them off!" the nurse shouted, somewhere behind her amidst the roars and screams of the blinded krogan males. The cart began to move, faster than before, gunfire and explosions sending waves of heat into the air as the males of her race fired blindly towards them.

"Stay still, movement will draw attention," the lead salarian whispered, the cart swinging to the left. Darkness soothed her blinded eyes, the white light fading first to gray then to black. "The ship is waiting, not far." His breathing, rapid and harsh timed their escape. Each of his exhalations matched the rushing of her heart.

"Name," the sapphire shamen whispered, wanting to know before he died. She didn't think he'd be able to escape and wanted to at least honor his attempt to save her by remembering his name. "Please, tell me your name." The gunfire faded away in the distance as he ran with her.

"Kirrahe," he replied, his voice soft as they slowed to a crawl. "Being followed, quiet now." His hand rested on her shoulder as he looked around, his dark eyes alert on the area. She slowly raised her head, seeking their stalkers.

"Give me a weapon, I can fight," she breathed, fighting the pain in her chest. "I will not be used like an animal, let me fight."

He turned to face her again. "No need, shuttle here," Kirrahe told her, his thin lips splitting into a victorious grin. Varren howled in the distance, but he ignored them, heaving on a huge slab of rock, letting it drop with a tremendous crash, plumes of dust choking her and burning her eyes.

The cart bumped, the ground shifting from rock to gray as the sun vanished to be replaced by gleaming metal. Machines and screens flashed in her periphery, but she instead turned her focus on him. "Why?" she asked him as he took the pilots chair. He heard her question, she could tell, but he withheld his answer for a long while as the shuttle fired up.

He lifted them, shaking off the rocks and dust from their hiding place and taking them to safety. "Because you are the last hope for the krogan. Mistakes have been made, chance to heal them."

_A salarian who regrets the past, can I trust him? Or will my future be darker than the past has ever been? I have no choice, my sisters sacrifice will not be in vain. A chance to heal . . .. I hope he is right._

* * *

_**A/N. Well, here we are my lovely readers, a chapter! I have two people to thank for driving me to write this one. First, my Jake, AKA Bowser. He has an amazing insight into vorcha and krogan and has some wonderful stories on his profile: Bahoogasmif. Seriously, this dude writes vorcha and krogan like a bauss. **_

_**Secondly, my amazing friend and beta Kim AKA Doctor Crit, or Mizdirected. Her constant support and friendship as well as guidance and occasional 'I will beat you with a stick' threats have driven me to becoming a better writer as well as a better person, and for that, I'll never be able to thank her enough.**_

_**Please, read and review, I love the feedback and let me know what you think of the journey this amazing character has so far gone through.**_


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